Mine
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: Jason's gone and Tim finds that he's the only one who thinks it wasn't on purpose. JayTim


**Mine  
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**A Word**: I wrote this for the final scene. That is all.

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_"You're mine," Red Hood hisses as he rips through the mess of men fighting in the too small room to launch himself at Tim. Knife first._

_Tim grunts as he dodges Red Hood and some young looking gang member. He's got a fight on all sides to deal with now. Two warring gangs that don't like him and Red Hood on top of it all. Hood is the most dangerous element of course. Tim grits his teeth as a fine line of fire slices across his right arm. He kicks out at the body coming up on his blind side and runs for the broken window closest to him. Throwing himself out of it to get himself some space._

_Hood follows but Tim's got room to breath now. Room to snap open his bo and face him without having to worry about who's coming up on his back. There's a smile on Hood's face as he stalks closer. Hand hovering over the holstered gun in a way that means Tim's going to be testing out the ballistics on his new armor in real time very soon._

_"You wish," Tim says and centers himself for the first rush._

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Jason's been missing for eight days. Tim's been worried for five. Seriously worried for four when every communication sent to Jason went unanswered, and all questions of the last sightings of Red Hood lead to dead ends.

"Tim," Bruce says from behind him.

"Yes?" Tim finishes another search string and sets the computer to start filtering the results. He's got it combing through the security cameras of every airport in the world they have access to. It's unlikely that anyone who has Jason would use them, but all other inquires have come up empty. Tim knows that sometimes his opponents won't do what he expects them to do all the time. So, it's worth it to look through public transport.

A hand drops onto his shoulder and Tim freezes. It's a careful move with a calculated amount of pressure to the fingers pressing into him. Bruce isn't very expressive at the best of times, but it's easy to tell what he's trying to convey with this simple touch even before he opens his mouth. "Tim, that's enough. He-"

"_No_," Tim doesn't yell. He doesn't scream and he doesn't fly off the handle. He wants to, but he won't. Not now. Jason's missing and Tim needs to be calm and focused to find him.

"He's gone, Tim," Bruce says firmly. The voice he uses when he has to talk jumpers down. It's not emotionless, but Bruce is sure of what he's saying even though he's _wrong_. "He told us-"

Tim can't help it. He's heard this speech one too many times. He jerks out of Bruce's grip and turns on him. "He didn't _say_ anything!"

A letter. It was a letter that Dick found in a bolt hole Jason hasn't used in over a year. It wasn't addressed to anyone or gave any reasoning. Just gave them all a general fuck off message. He was done with Gotham. An obvious forgery that everyone seems to believe for some awful reason Tim doesn't have the time to think on just yet. Bruce can look at the writing and prints all he wants, Tim's not going to believe it's real.

Jason leaves notes on Tim's fridge or taped to the coffee pot. Short and to the point reminders about things to do or foods to buy. Inconsequential things. The important things are left on Tim's voicemail. The _really_ important things he says face to face. Regardless of how much it might hurt.

Tim turns stiffly back to the computer watching the progression of the search as Bruce hovers. Grim and useless. His mind is made up so Tim's searching on his own. He's sadly become used to that, and Bruce should know better than to question Tim on this kind of thing. After all, he's been right before.

Bruce eventually slips away. Silent as he came.

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_"You're mine," Jason says with a grin that's half threat and half something else that makes Tim's mind stutter and his face flush._

_"Hardly," he shakes his head at the man's words as they watch the informants Tim had just shaken down slink away. The information he wanted given up much easier than he'd anticipated. Thanks to Jason apparently. "How many people are really going to believe I'm working for you now?"_

_"Enough to get you what you need," Jason swings down from the ledge he's been hanging onto. Shaking out one arm like it's bothering him as he strides across the roof to stand next to Tim. Close enough to make Tim twitch. Much to the older man's amusement. "What? You gonna complain about a little rumor that makes your life easier, baby bird?"_

_Baby bird is the newest name Jason's come up with for Tim, and it's one he's using more and more often now. As far as names go, it's better than replacement or pretender, but not by much. Tim knows better than to say any of that out loud though. It'll only encourage him. "You say that like I need the help."_

_"Maybe you do," Jason grins and the threat is mostly gone now, "or maybe I'm just getting tired of watching you beat the shit outta them so much."_

_"You?" The cowl covers the eyebrow he raises, but they all know how to read even smaller shifts of the face through thicker masks. "Tired of seeing people get beat up? I'm shocked. Speechless almost."_

_"Almost," Jason mocks Tim. His grin slides into a smirk for a brief few seconds before sliding into a leer. "And it's not them getting beat that I'm tired of. It's what watching you do it does to me that I'm tired of dealing with."_

_Jason's close enough that Tim can't stop the hand that snakes around his lower back under the cape. Hand sliding low and fast to get a good grope in while Tim stands there gaping. "Alone at least."_

_Jason laughs when Tim shoves him away with an elbow to his throat. Face burning as he leaves._

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"Tim," Dick starts like they've been talking for hours already. He doesn't touch Tim. He never does when he's really worried that what he's about to say is going to get him hit.

"Not now, Dick," Tim's tired. He's been juggling patrol and work while keeping up his search. Bruce has stopped trying to talk to him and resorted to sending him more and more work. The man clearly hopes it'll be enough to stop Tim, and he's not all that wrong. It's starting to take it's toll on him and something is going to give soon.

It's just not going to be the give Bruce wants. Jason's been gone for two weeks, and while Tim's grimly accepted morgues as part of his searches he's still not ready to rule anything out.

He's really not up for dealing with Dick right now. That's not going to actually stop the man, but Tim can only hope.

"Tim, you have to stop this," Dick's in his space. Still not touching him, but the potential is there. Tim hunches over his laptop. Finalizing some discrete emails to send off before he heads out for patrol. "He left, he doesn't want to be found."

"Uh huh," Tim hums as he hits send. There's a warehouse near the docks that Jason had been making noise about a few days before he disappeared. Tim had managed to track down an informant of Red Hood's that confirmed the man had been moving in on some activity in the area that night. He'd stopped off to get some information before hitting it, and that's the last anyone saw of him.

He shuts the laptop down and gets up off the couch to finish suiting up. There's few requests from Bruce that are legitimate that he'll run to ground on his way to the docks, but the rest are worthless busywork that he's going to start ignoring.

Dick doesn't let Tim get far. He's frustrated, which make two of them, when he grabs Tim. Pulling him around to face him. "_Tim_, little brother, you can't keep doing this! Jason _left_ you."

"No," Tim shrugs out of Dick's hold and barely stops himself from striking out. He wants to, so badly. "He's gone Dick, but it's not by choice."

"Look, I know you don't want to hear this," Dick follows Tim into his room. He doesn't bat an eye at the distinct leather jacket hanging off the end of the bed. It's a spare. Jason hasn't quite broken it in enough yet to be comfortable patrolling in it. Tim has half the closet and few drawers of other things to go with the jacket. More reasons for why he's right. "I know you two were-"

"_Are_, Dick. What we are," Tim interrupts. The cowl is tight over his face as he drags it on. He's tired. Tired of the work being piled on him when all he wants to do is tear the city apart to find Jason. Tired of the way Bruce gives him those grim looks. Tired of Dick who always wants to 'just talk' and never listens! "Just," Tim can spend the whole night arguing with Dick over this, but he doesn't want to. He has things to do. "I have a lead to track down."

He ignores the frustrated sigh from Dick and heads to the dock.

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_"You're mine," Jason growls and Tim shudders. Either at the words or the trail of heat that follows Jason's lips as he bites down the column of Tim's neck. _

_Tim arches back to give him more room. He shoves his hands under Jason's shirt. Rucking it up slowly and dragging his nails up Jason's back. Listening to him moan at the feeling. "Take it off."_

_"Fuck," the shirt goes flying and Tim might worry about the safety of the lamps but Jason's back to kissing him and that's far more important than an easily replaced lamp. "You're so fucking-"_

_Tim doesn't hear the end of that sentence. Jason rolls his hips and they both groan. Tim's knees buckle and they both go to the ground which is farther than the bed he'd been hoping for, but will do just fine now that he's got Jason's bare skin under his hands. His tongue in his mouth, and his voice panting obscenities in his ear._

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He's in Gotham. In the Joker's hands.

Tim says nothing over the compromised lines as he's speeding towards where he knows Jason is. The bike is stolen and he doesn't have a single bit of armor or weaponry on him that he didn't pick up off the streets after finding the oddity that led him to all the bugs in the Cave. In the manor, WE, and more safehouses and apartments than Tim was aware were connected with them. Tim had barely gotten a feel for how very compromised everything was before shutting everything down and doing his best to pretend he hadn't figured it out.

Hadn't seen how it all funneled into one feed in an area Joker likes to play around in when he's free. _When_ he's free.

Joker's been in Arkham for a little over a week now, and he'd laughed so hard when Batman took him down. Going on about surprises and experiments. Standard talk for him that none of them had paid attention to. Not one bit.

There's two ways this can go. One is that Jason is being held still by henchmen. Kept down somehow until Joker managed to get free and continue whatever he was planning. The second is that Joker didn't let anyone in on his new plan, and has Jason locked down so thoroughly he can't escape even after being alone for a week.

Tim knows which one is more likely for the psycho, and he hopes he's wrong as he scales the fence set up around an old building that's been scheduled for demolishment for years now. It used to be an art store. He disarms two standard traps getting in the back of the building. Proving that Joker was setting something up before he was caught.

There's a confusing array of things everywhere. Most of them trail upstairs. It almost looks like he was wrapping the entire inside of the building. Tim looks up and can see something that might be ribbon floating in a breeze.

Tim heads down. He finds an almost hidden door and goes into the basement. Joker might have been setting things up in the top floors, but he wasn't finished. Jason won't be up there.

The basement is a maze of halls and rooms. Tim treads carefully, but he hears and sees no sign of anyone. No sign of life. Tim doesn't let that bother him as he methodically searches each room. He can't stop the way his heart starts pounding when he sees a faint glow coming from under a door. He removes a simple trap and slowly cracks the door open. Inching it further and further as he looks for any other traps until he can slip in.

The room is filled with monitors and a horribly twisted array of wires. It's the feed from the bugs. Different rooms, different buildings on each monitor. The Cave is most prominent. Up on a large monitor front and center. His own apartment just to the right of it. Tim sees movement on the screen but he's not really paying attention to any of the monitors. His eyes are on the still figure in the middle of the room.

It's Jason. He's tied to a chair welded to the floor with a variety of ropes and chains and cables even more tangled than the nest Tim trips over getting to him. His head is slumped and Tim can see bruises and dried blood as he holds his breath and reaches out, because Jason hasn't moved. Hasn't so much as twitched.

"Jay," Tim says softly as he touches Jason's face. It's cool but not stiff. There's rope tangled around his neck and Tim gets a knife out of his boot and starts to carefully cut them away. Fraying the rope until he can reach in and press two fingers to Jason's neck. Searching hard for the pulse that he _needs_ to be there. It's faint but steady, and Tim breathes out a ragged breath. "Thank you."

Jason's lips twitch, and Tim looks up startled. There's a slit of blue looking down at him. Tim reaches back up to cup Jason's cheek. He gets another twitch of lips before Jason's eyes close. Tim reaches for the emergency tracer he'd grabbed only because it's too simple and small to be bugged in any way and triggers it.

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_"You're mine."_

_Tim looks up from the crossword he's been doing. Jason sits across from him. Steadily destroying Tim's supply of sliced bread with the help of the toaster and a tub of butter. He doesn't actually stop eating or say anything else. _

_It's not a joke and it's not an insult. Jason's stating a fact as far as he's concerned. Something as simple as the color of the sky. Which is important, but something that everyone knows. He studies Tim with eyes that are more blue today than anything else. Calm and content with his lot in life. He's got his gear in a closet down the hall, a roof over his head, a table full of food, and Tim._

_It's really cavemanish and presumptuous but Tim smiles and answers even though it really wasn't a question, "Yes."_

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"Thank you," Jason says when they're finally as alone as they're likely to get. Bruce monitoring Jason's vitals from the main part of the Cave while Alfred keeps Dick too busy to do more than check in on them every hour. Guilt weighs them all down and they show it in annoying ways.

Jason's still hooked up to an IV to counteract the dehydration, but it's a slow drip now. Wedged into the bed next to Jason Tim stirs from his doze and blinks up at him. "What for?"

"For not thinking the worst of me," Jason replies. His eyes are more green when Tim looks. The bruising around his face bringing that color to the front strongly. He doesn't say 'Like everyone else did,' or 'Like everyone always has my whole life.' He doesn't have to.

"I," Tim bites his lips and sighs. Looking away from Jason's eyes. "I think the worst of everyone."

Especially when it looks like they're leaving him. Tim doesn't say that but he doesn't have to.

"But not me," Jason brushes his hair away, tucks it behind his ear, and gently tilts Tim's face back. "Not even when Dick laid into you over it, you never thought the worst about me."

"Because I know you," Tim says. He knows Jason, and he knows that leaving just isn't something he does. He's as incapable of leaving something that's _his_ as Tim is incapable of thinking people will stay for _him_. He smiles wryly. "That doesn't mean there wasn't a hell of a mental disconnect."

Jason snorts at his words. His thumb stroking Tim's jaw as Tim lays his head back down. Listening to the sound of Jason's heart over the sounds of the Cave. Reassuring himself that he was right. Jason didn't leave him, and he won't. Not now. Not ever.

Jason is _his_.

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End file.
